


Candle in a Window

by Diamond_Raven



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-22
Updated: 2009-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5387384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Raven/pseuds/Diamond_Raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Arthur returned to Merlin safely, and one time he didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candle in a Window

**Author's Note:**

> This story does not follow the way Arthur's death was depicted in the TV show, but does use elements of Arthur's death from the legends.

_‘My King, King everywhere; and so the dead have kings, there also will I worship thee as King.’_

\- Sir Bedivere to a dying King Arthur, ‘Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur’

*          *          *

1.

Merlin had just finished casting another mild heating charm at the bath he’d drawn for Arthur an hour ago, when the prince strode into his chambers, looking tired.

“Get me out of these clothes. Now.”

Merlin dutifully stepped around the table and started undoing the clasps of the heavy cloak and tossing it on the bed before kneeling down to help get his boots off him.

“How are the villages doing?”

Merlin glanced up and saw Arthur waving a dismissive hand. “Fine. Beyond fine. I had one old woman spend half an hour showing me the new pigs she’d bought and I had to suffer through an hour explanation of some old man’s recitation of exactly how many kernels of oats they’d have at harvest and why.”

Merlin chuckled and felt Arthur glaring down at him. “It’s not funny. Why anybody knows exactly how many kernels of oats they’ll have at harvest is beyond me, but what absolutely baffles me is why he thought I’d care. Get my damn boots off already. I stink like pigs and I have wheat chaff in my hair.”

Merlin managed to finally tug the other boot off and the prince proceeded to strip the rest of his clothes off on his own, leaving them in a trail on the floor as he headed for his bath.

*          *          *

2.

Merlin pressed his lips into a tight line as he gently pulled up Arthur’s shirt and saw the bruise blooming over his ribs. “Moves like that shouldn’t be allowed in tournaments,” he said, glaring at the bruise.

Arthur gingerly sat down on his bed and wearily rolled his head around, grimacing slightly. “Which shows exactly how much you know about tournament rules. Didn’t I give you that book to read?”

“I never said I don’t know the rules. I just don’t like some of them.”

“You certainly didn’t mind when that kick I gave Lord Eston landed him on his arse and moved me up to the next round. In fact, I recall hearing a rather loud shout of ‘Take that, you old arse!’ being yelled from your vicinity.”

Merlin opened his mouth to defend himself, but at Arthur’s amused smile, he shrugged it off. “He is an old arse,” he muttered, tossing Arthur’s shirt onto the bed beside him and going over to grab the healing salve from the cupboard.

When he came back, he smacked away Arthur’s hands as they tried to grab the salve himself and he dipped his finger in the salve and gently smoothed it over the swollen, angry bruise. Then he gently grabbed one of Arthur’s hands and smoothed the salve onto his red, sore palms, rubbing it in slow circles.

“You’re such a girl, Merlin. It was just a little kick. Lord Royen has a concussion from that blow to the head he got in the first round.”

“Lord Royen isn’t our prince,” Merlin said. What he didn’t add was that Lord Royen wasn’t his prince. Or his friend.

He continued rubbing the salve into Arthur’s hand, not noticing the way Arthur was staring down at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

*          *          *

3.

Merlin lay on Arthur’s bed, staring up at the canopy. He still couldn’t get used to waking up in the King chambers and staring up at a canopy that wasn’t Arthur’s former canopy.

He heard the door open and he pushed himself up on his elbows, watching Arthur stride in and start immediately taking off the splendid clothes of his wedding night, which Merlin had spent days fussing over and had helped him put on a few hours ago. The last thing to be taken off was his crown, which he gently set onto the other clothes he had thrown onto the table. Merlin still found it strange to see Arthur wearing Uther’s crown, even though he had been King for a year already.

When Arthur was naked, Merlin waved a hand at the King’s night shift lying beside him and floated it over to him. Arthur grabbed it from the air, tucked it on and padded barefoot across the floor to his bed.

Merlin had already pulled the covers back and Arthur climbed in, immediately wrapping his arms and legs around Merlin, entwining their limbs as they had every night for the past three years.

They both stared at each other, not speaking for a long moment. Then Merlin reached over and gently brushed a strand of his blonde hair off his forehead.

“Got kicked out of your wedding bed already, hmm?”

Arthur snorted and pinched his arm, making Merlin yelp and smack his hand. “I did not get kicked out of my wedding bed. Gwen and I had a lovely conversation, drank some more wine, lamented over the horrid cutlery Lady Gorven had sent as a wedding present and then she sent me off.”

“She does know what ‘consummation’ means, right?”

Arthur snorted again. “Yes, she does. She said she also knows what love is. She’s happy and I’m happy and that’s what a wedding night is all about, isn’t it?”

Merlin smiled softly and then got a devilish grin on his face. “So, technically your wedding night isn’t over, right? Which means technically you still haven’t performed your duties as far as the wedding night is concerned.”

Arthur smiled and pushed himself up on one elbow and rolled Merlin over onto his back, draping one leg over him as he grinned down at him. “I do believe you’re right. We shall have to remedy that immediately.”

Merlin laughed and pulled Arthur down, meeting his lips with his own.

He would have to make sure that nobody had noticed Arthur sneaking back to his room tomorrow morning. It was nobody’s business what went on behind the closed doors of the King and Queen’s chambers, which meant that it was everybody’s business.

For tonight, he was determined to give Arthur the best possible wedding night he could, even if technically, it wasn’t his own wedding night, because Arthur deserved every happiness Merlin could give him, magical or not.

Because he was his Arthur. His King.

*          *          *

4.

As soon as the sound of horses hooves could be heard echoing over the cobblestones, Merlin was off, running towards the approaching mass of riders, Gwen at his heels.

They both knew that the King and his most trusted knight were safe, but there was a world of difference between receiving this message from a breathless messenger and actually seeing them with their own eyes.

As the riders approached, all draped in brilliant Camelot red, their armor shimmering in the sunlight, Merlin’s eyes searched for the one knight he needed to see more than any other.

He was riding along, looking tired and worn, but in one piece, talking to Lancelot even while both men’s eyes scanned the waiting crowd.

Arthur’s eyes found and caught Gwen’s first, who pressed her lips together with relief and gave him a tiny nod, pride for what he had done and gratitude that he had returned and brought back Lancelot safely shining in her eyes.

Then Arthur’s eyes caught Merlin’s and Merlin felt like he was whole again. The whole time Arthur had been gone had made Merlin feel as if half of him had been missing. He had rarely spent a single day apart from his friend and lover for five years and he again cursed the damn illness which had prevented him from accompanying the knights to another border skirmish in their rapidly expanding kingdom.

Arthur had never before forbidden him from riding with them, but when Merlin had proven incapable of even lifting his head without vomiting and those damn rebels hadn’t been willing to understand that now was not a good time, Arthur had been forced to leave without him, with only his knights, Merlin’s protective charms and Excalibur to protect him.

He tried to suppress the feeling of utter relief which flooded him as Arthur leapt off his horse and gave her a pat on the neck, before making his way through the throng of people shaking his hands and touching him anywhere they could reach.

Merlin knew what they were doing. Touch was the only sure way to know that he was back, safe and whole.

That night, Merlin did a lot of touching too, using his lips, fingers and whole body to reassure himself that his knight back.

*          *          *

5.

“No!”

Merlin stood frozen on the edge of the large room, staring in disbelief at the figure lying so horribly still on the bed. He hadn’t realized he’d yelled so loudly until he saw Gwen’s head snap up, her face covered in tears.

Lancelot and the other knights were standing around the room, looking utterly lost in shock.

Merlin rushed towards the bed, his mind already racing through different healing charms he could try. Once he reached Arthur, he stared at the still figure, body still dressed in armor which was covered in blood and dirt. A horrible, gaping stab wound was on his chest, the armor and shirt beneath torn to shreds. His face was pale and the dim light from the candles reflected off his golden hair and that irritating beard which Merlin had always hated – that being the sole reason that the King had kept it for the past ten years.

Merlin reached out his hand, ready to try one of the many spells he was prepared to use to save the King’s life when Gwen gently grabbed his hand.

“Let me go, Gwen! We can’t waste any time!”

“Merlin—Merlin, I’m so sorry,” her voice was a choked whisper, sobs nearly forcing the words to be lost. “He’s gone. The sword Mordred used – it was magical. Some sort of dark magic. There was nothing you could have done. He—He’s gone. He’s—I’m so sorry.”

Merlin stood frozen, staring at the figure on the bed, only now properly understanding that Arthur had stopped breathing some time between Merlin killing Mordred in a blast which shock the earth and momentarily darkened the sky, and bending the laws of the Earth to follow a badly wounded Arthur and his knights to Avalon.

He barely heard Gwen whisper for the knights to give him some privacy and walk out, Lancelot and another knight on either side of her to keep her upright.

He stepped closer to the bed and sank down beside Arthur’s body, staring at his beautiful King.

“This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go,” he whispered. “We weren’t done, you prat.”

That filled him with sudden rage and he slammed his fists into the soft bed clothes and then Arthur’s armor covered arm. “You hear me? We weren’t done!” he screamed, before tears choked the words in his throat and he lowered his head onto Arthur’s chest, sobbing as if his very life was draining from him the way it had from Arthur.

In a way, it was.

He had no idea how long he lay there, his head on the armor he had always insisted on overseeing the cleaning of himself, no matter how many servants Arthur hired, and clutched the red cloak clasped around the knight’s shoulders.

When he had no more tears to cry, he pulled his head up and leaned over Arthur. Wiping his tears off his cheeks, he tried to pull himself together. There was so much that had to be done and Arthur would never forgive him if he didn’t make sure his Queen and people were alright.

Gently, he pressed his fingers to his lips, kissed them and then pressed them to the crown which sat on the table beside the bed.

He pressed his fingers to the crown twice.

Once for his King. Then again for his Prince.

Then he leaned over and gently kissed the king’s forehead twice.

Once for his brave knight. Then again for the prat who had been his best friend for nearly twenty years.

Lastly, he pressed a kiss to his lips. A kiss for the man who had been his lover for nearly as long as he had been his friend.

“You better be at peace, you prat. You’re leaving us with a lot of damn work to do and you know it,’ he whispered, smoothing a strand of blond hair off his forehead as he had done hundreds of times in the past.

Then he leaned down until he was nose to nose with his King, wanting to make sure that the idiot completely understood what he was about to say.

“Wherever I am and whatever I do, you will always be my King….

…..my prince….

….my knight….

….my friend…..

….and most importantly, my Arthur…..”

Then Merlin pushed himself up and started gently weaving spells around the body on the bed, making sure that the greatest King who had ever lived and would ever live looked as beautiful and brave as he had been every day of his life.


End file.
